The In-between
by donutsweeper
Summary: It is said that a team's interaction is best seen in the time after the operation has finished, but before the extraction and their return to base.


There wasn't a lot of cover, just mile upon mile of scrub brush and rolling sandy hills broken up by the occasional boulder or sickly looking tree. Their transport, an old, rusted out Jeep that had probably been past its prime before FitzSimmons had even been born, had broken down, finally succumbing to the damage it had taken in the shootout. It had managed to limp about a quarter of the way to the backup extraction point before May determined all the smoke and dust it was throwing up was going to do more harm than good when it came to shaking off their pursuers.

"We're going to have to go on foot from here." Twisting around to address them directly from the front seat she added, "I'll grab the gear. You two help Ward."

May was out of the vehicle and slamming the door behind her before Ward roused himself enough to grind out, "I'm fine."

"Just because you keep saying that, doesn't make it true." Simmons moved her hands, letting up the pressure she'd been putting on the bullet wound and the impromptu bandaging they'd thrown over it during the escape and forced some cheeriness into her voice. "You're just lucky it seems to have missed all your vital organs and squishy bits."

"Wasn't luck."

"Of course it wasn't," Fitz commented, dryly.

"Fitz, it'll probably be easier if we go out your side. Can you get the door?"

"Right, right. Yeah, got it." He tugged the door open, shifting so Ward's weight was against the seatback instead of his shoulder before sliding out. "Okay, Ward, if you - can you - just - Simmons, maybe if you." He flailed his hands about, making pulling and pushing gestures.

Ward, taking a deep breath, rallied somewhat and reached over, grabbing the edge of the seat and slid over before slowly turning and planting one foot and then the other on the ground. "I got it," he said.

Simmons quickly shot out the other door and ran around the Jeep, barely skirting past May pulling their supplies out of the back in her hurry. "Here, let me help." Bending down, she grabbed his hand and put it on her shoulder. "Lean on me." Ward looked up at her and she smiled. "I'm a lot stronger than I look."

"I know," Ward responded. He took a deep breath as Fitz took hold of his other arm. "On three?"

Fitz nodded, looking at Simmons, and counted them off, "One. Two. Three!" And with only a hitch in his breathing, Ward was on his feet.

"See? Told you I was fine."

"You're pale and shaking," Simmons tutted.

"And you've a big hole in your side," Fitz added. "Not to mention the whole beating thing."

"To be fair," May said as she joined them, two bags slung over her shoulder and throwing a third, smaller one, at Fitz. "The beating _was_ part of the plan." Raking over Ward with a critical eye she asked, "I've rigged the car to let us know if anyone finds it. You good?"

He nodded.

"Then let's go."

They ran.

May was on point, eyes darting back and forth, in case their position had been triangulated or destination determined. Ward managed on his own at first, a hand pressed against his side. Simmons ran right beside him with Fitz taking the rear, constantly turning to look behind them to make sure they weren't being followed.

An hour or so later, after they moved past a few hills and into some thicker brush, they came across a small stream. They had slowed considerably by then, moving at a pace that could barely be considered a jog. May scouted ahead while FitzSimmons were acting as a unit with Ward slung between them, bringing up the rear; he was still conscious, but only just, his movements blindly aping theirs.

"We need to stop and rebandage his wound." Simmons' voice was high, breathy and concerned.

"I'm fine," Ward replied, just as he had each of the last three times one of them had made a similar suggestion since they'd left the Jeep. "May'll stop when it's safe and not before then."

Simmons looked at Fitz who looked back at her. She shook her head and he shrugged, but they kept on going as fast as they could, all the while keeping Ward from falling face first into the brush and bramble as they continued on their way.

May suddenly appeared in front of them. "There's a decent spot about a hundred meters ahead with some cover. We can take ten minutes or so to stop without risking our extraction window." She waited until they nodded in response and then took off.

"So, I guess we're getting that break after all. Good thing too, Fitz, you're looking peaked," Simmons joked as they headed in the direction May had disappeared in.

"She's probably as tired as we are, if not more. After all, all we did was run the diagnostics and verify it was what it was supposed to be and did what the reports claimed it would do. She was the one creating the distraction and then rescuing Ward. Hard work, all that."

"I'm not sure Agent May found that as strenuous as you think she would." Simmons tilted her head to address Fitz on Ward's other side. "Between her training and her physique, considering her typical energy output, I'd wager-"

"That she could kick both your asses for bein' so loud during a mission?" Ward said before straightening and taking on a little more of his weight. "Not much further, come on."

They rounded a bend in the stream and approached the grassy spot half shaded by two trees where May waited for them, already pulling out supplies from their bags.

"Help him down. Legs straight, back against the tree," she ordered. "How are you doing, Ward?"

Ward let out a short, aborted hiss as he lowered himself down with FitzSimmons' help. "I'm fi-" he began, but at her glare he took a deep breath and said, "I've got another hour or two of being mobile left in me, tops. Could go longer with a blood transfusion, but none of you are my type."

"You know our blood types?" Simmons asked.

Wrinkling his brow, Ward replied with a matter of fact, "Of course."

May nodded, accepting his assessment of his condition. "We'll hydrate, change your bandages and then head out. Should get you to the pickup point with plenty of time to spare." She passed FitzSimmons each a bottle of water and gestured to Ward with a pair of scissors. "Should we try to keep the shirt?"

He glanced down, it was already blood soaked and ripped in two places, not to mention having the nice little bullet hole in it. "Nah, lost cause," he replied and then stilled carefully as she cut through both the shirt and the layers of bandages they'd applied earlier.

Slipping off his shirt completely, she examined his torso as she readied the supplies. "Not so bad," May commented, wiping the entrance wound with the medicated pad. "Simple in and out, minimal damage. Lean forward and let me get the back." She guided him away from the tree and against her shoulder before making quick work of cleaning the exit wound. Before settling him back against the tree she ripped open a bandage and passed it to Fitz. "Hold this in place while I wrap him up."

Fitz capped his bottle and grimaced as he pressed the pad over the wound. "It's still bleeding."

May nodded. "But it's slowed considerably, and that's the important thing."

"Here." Simmons held her bottle up to Ward's lips. "You should drink. You, more than any of us, need to stay hydrated." With a tired nod he began sipping slowly.

While Simmons was keeping Ward distracted with the water, May pressed a second pad over the front entry wound and then began wrapping the bandages. After tying it in place she patted his leg. "You're doing fine. We'll get you out of here and back on the plane in no time," she told him before moving away to gather up the soiled bandages and shirt and the wrappings; they couldn't leave any evidence behind that would show that they had stopped there.

Coughing around the water, Ward merely nodded.

Simmons pressed the back of her hand across Ward's forehead and pursed her lips. "You're starting to run a fever."

"Unavoidable with a bullet wound and delayed treatment. It's not too high," May said.

"Even so, it couldn't hurt to keep him warm. Fitz," Simmons said, "See if you can find a jacket or shirt or something for him in the bags."

"Right." He avoided the largest bag, which only contained the items from their op and didn't bother with the smallest, the go bag with the med kit, maps and emergency supplies, instead going through the third bag. "Oh, hey, granola bars!" he exclaimed, pulling out a handful of them. "I'm so hungry, I could—" looking over at Simmons' face as he spoke he immediately shoved them back in the bag and finished, "eat them as soon as we're at the extraction point and not a minute sooner."

Just then there was an explosion back in the direction they'd come from. May started, swinging around with her gun drawn.

FitzSimmons looked confused but Ward asked, "The Jeep?" and May nodded.

"I told you I'd rigged it to let us know if anyone found it."

"It worked," Fitz said.

Ward shifted, pressing one hand against the ground and the other against the tree. "We gotta get going. They'll be faster than us. I've been slowing us down."

"Wait, no, let us help." Simmons grabbed Ward's hand off the trunk and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "On three. Come on, Fitz, grab his other side."

"I've got the bags," May said as she took a step back, waiting for FitzSimmons to get Ward on his feet.

"One," Simmons said.

"Two," Fitz said.

"Three," they said in unison and stood, Ward crying out briefly before snapping his mouth shut.

May looked him over briefly before pressing a gun into his hand. "You got my back?"

Grabbing the gun tightly, Ward replied, "Always." May gave a quick nod before loping off on point.

"Ready?" Simmons asked. Ward nodded.

"Ready," Fitz said.

"Then let's get you home."


End file.
